


(Bring Back) That Lovin’ Feelin’

by novemberhush



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angry Harvey, I guess Donna is too, Karaoke, Light Angst, Louis is a Good Friend, M/M, Pre-Slash, Repentent Mike, Set early season 3, but only Mike will admit it, happy/hopeful ending, marvey, they’re both pining, ’Top Gun’ references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 12:57:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15558216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: Harvey is still freezing Mike out over his perceived betrayal surrounding the whole Edward Darby business and Mike is becoming increasingly desperate to find a way back to how they were before. Could a staff outing to a karaoke bar provide the answer?





	(Bring Back) That Lovin’ Feelin’

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this was written way back when as part of the Suits 100 event organised over on tumblr to celebrate the show’s 100th episode. I’d had an idea for a karaoke fic for a while and when someone posted a prompt about the employees of PSL or, as I like to call it, ‘whoever’s name is on the wall this week’ having a night out at karaoke it seemed like a sign I should finally write my idea. However, it just wouldn’t turn out the way I wanted it to. But I did the best I could. This is a slightly tweaked (and hopefully better) version of the story I posted on tumblr.

“Remind me again - why did I let you convince me this was a good idea?” Mike asked for the hundredth time since they'd concocted this plan. Louis responded as he had the first ninety nine times. By rolling his eyes.

 

“Because Bruce Wayne glowering over there at the bar needs reminding that he's nothing without his Dick, and you, my friend, are his Di-”

 

“Please don't finish that sentence, Louis. And let's just stick to Batman and Robin, okay? I don't like being called Dick and I'm pretty sure Harvey wouldn't be too happy to hear you calling him ... dickless.”

 

“Fair point, Boy Wonder,” Louis agreed quickly, glancing around to make sure no one else had overheard him implying such a thing.

 

“Oh, Jesus, I'm screwed,” Mike whined, dropping his head on to the table dramatically.

 

“Now, Robin, none of this defeatist attitude. We're gonna get up there and do this thing and Harvey won't be able to do anything but welcome you back with open arms.”

 

“You really think it'll work?” Mike muttered, face still planted on the table.

 

“I do,” Louis replied with an air of unshakable confidence.

 

“Really?” Mike pushed, sitting up straight again.

 

“I don't know,” Louis admitted.

 

Mike's head hit the table once more. “But you just said you did!”

 

“I was trying to be reassuring!”

 

“Yeah? Well, you suck at it!”

 

“Come on, Mike, don't be like that. I mean, what have you got to lose by trying?”

 

“Oh, I don't know,” Mike answered, propping his head up on his arms, crossed on the table. “How about a little thing like my dignity? My self-respect? The respect of everyone in this place, most of whom I work with every day and who will make sure I never live this down?”

 

Louis snorted. “Mike, it's a karaoke bar. If it's dignity you're looking for, that ship sailed long ago. It disappeared over the horizon right around the time Harold got up and warbled his way through ‘Like A Virgin’, completely unironically.”

 

Now it was Mike's turn to snort. “Yeah. Jesus, poor Harold.” He pondered the fate of his favourite lame duckling come Monday morning for a moment before another thought hit him.

 

“And it was really _Jessica’s_ idea to celebrate the merger with Darby by coming here? I mean, she never struck me as the Queen of Karaoke type.”

 

“She's a woman of hidden depths and many talents. Besides, she heard this is a thing Darby likes to do back home in merry old England and she thought it might be a nice gesture to welcome him to the firm, and ...”

 

“... and she knew Harvey would hate it,” Mike finished bitterly. “That's why she ordered him to be here tonight. To drive it home that's she's in charge and to remind him of his place. The place he's in because I screwed him over.”

 

Louis sighed, “Look, I don't know exactly what it was Jessica had over you to make you go against Harvey like that …”

 

Mike sat up quickly, looking away, unable to meet Louis’ eye. “I … I don't know what you mean. Jessica's my boss. I had to follow her orders. She hasn't got anythi-”

 

“Bullshit! I _know_ she has something over you. Boss or not, there's no way you would've went against Harvey otherwise. And I'm not trying to find out what it is. I don't want to know. I just know you've been miserable since it happened, and that Harvey's been miserable too. He's just too proud to admit it. So tonight we're going to remind him why he fell in love with you in the first place.”

 

“Harvey's not _in love_ with me!” Mike squawked, loud enough to attract the attention of a few people at a nearby table. None of them employees of the firm, thankfully. “He's not … We're not … I mean, no, it's not like that.”

 

Louis’ face was the epitome of every ‘ _Sure, Jan_ ’ meme Mike had ever seen.

 

“Riiiiiiiiight. Whatever you say, Mike.”

 

“Louis, we're not-”, but the rest of his sentence got lost in the sudden applause that broke out as Jessica made her way on to the little platform that served as a stage.

 

Mike was sure there wasn't a single employee of the firm, himself included, who wasn't holding their breath, waiting to see what song their fearless leader had chosen to perform.

 

A one-hit wonder from the late 90s was probably not what anyone had been expecting.

 

And yet, as the opening twang of ‘Bitch’ by Meredith Brooks kicked in, Mike couldn't help thinking that somehow it was perfect. He could've done without Louis singing along to every line right beside him, though.

 

Jessica, it turned out, was as comfortable and confident onstage as she was in the office, delivering a gutsy, heartfelt rendition of her chosen song. When she finished her performance the bar erupted in a cacophony of whoops, cheers and clapping, with many patrons rising from their seats to applaud. Mike had to admit it probably wasn't all due to a bunch of ass-kissing underlings sucking up to their boss. She could actually sing. But then, what couldn't she do?

 

When the crowd eventually settled down Edward Darby took to the stage with a smarmy comment about not being sure how he could follow Jessica's performance. Mike pretended not to hear Louis muttering under his breath about the goddamn Brits already having a queen of their own without coming over here toadying up to _his_.

 

Darby’s song choice was eminently predictable - ‘Englishman in New York’ by Sting. Mike didn't need to look at Harvey to know he was rolling his eyes. He could practically _hear_ it from where he sat on the other side of the room. The rest of the crowd listened politely, a few of them even joining in with the chorus. Louis made no noise except for a few derisive snorts and huffs now and then. Mike was the first to speak again once Darby had had his fun.

 

“You know, I never got that line about liking his toast done on one side. Is that a British thing or something?”

 

“Probably. Who the hell knows with those guys?” Louis retorted. “Anyway, forget him. Are you _sure_  you wouldn’t rather go with ‘The Way We Were’?”

 

Mike dropped his head on the table again with a groan. “ _Yes_ , Louis, I’m sure.”

 

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, Mike desperately trying to shove the thought that his turn was fast approaching to the back of his mind. Louis had talked to the guy running the show and slipped him a few bucks to ensure they went last and that everything would be set up the way they needed it.

 

Jimmy and a few of the other associates brought the house down with a performance of ‘My Girl’ that Mike couldn't help noticing even had Harvey applauding. He even went so far as to crack a begrudging smile when Donna butchered her way through an off-key rendition of ‘Respect’ by Aretha Franklin.

 

Of course, the smile vanished the second he inadvertently made eye contact with Mike. In its place was the cold, disinterested mask he seemed to have perfected around his former associate since the night he'd walked away leaving the words “We're done” resounding in Mike's ears. Mike tried to ignore the now all too familiar twinge in his chest every time he was treated to that look.

 

Thankfully Rachel and Jessica chose that moment to join Donna on stage, Norma and Katrina in tow as well, and for a second Mike had the bizarre thought they were going to launch themselves into a tribute to The Spice Girls. Jessica, Donna, Katrina and Rachel. Scary, Ginger, Baby and Posh were all accounted for. He guessed that meant Norma was Sporty. That disturbing train of thought had barely left the station, though, before, instead of ‘Wannabe’, the hastily put together new supergroup began belting out a rousing version of ‘Sisters Are Doin’ It for Themselves’. Louis filmed the whole thing on his phone.

 

And all too soon it was over. The night was coming to its climax. That meant Mike and Louis were up next. Mike's stomach turned over and he struggled to keep down the alcohol he had been tossing back all night in an effort to bolster his courage. It was now or never. Which, funnily enough, was the Elvis song Paul Porter had crooned his way through earlier in the night. But Mike couldn't think about that now. He couldn't think of anything but what he was about to do and how Harvey would react.

 

Picking up the microphone with the extended cable that the karaoke guy had set up for him, he hid it behind his back. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he walked over to where Harvey sat at the bar, his back now turned to Mike and the rest of the room. His eye caught Louis’ and the thumbs up he threw at him. He nodded back resolutely. With one last shaky breath he reached out to Harvey with his free hand. Feeling the hand on his arm Harvey turned slightly towards him and Mike said, “Excuse me, Harvey…”

 

Right on cue, Louis was there, the Goose to Mike’s Maverick, just as they'd practiced. “Hey, hey, hey … don't worry, Harvey, I'll take care of this.”

 

Harvey sneered (Mike wasn't sure at which one of them; both, maybe) before turning away again.

 

Gathering all the courage he had within him, Mike squeezed his eyes shut and offered up a quick prayer to whatever deity might happen to be listening before he opened them again and began singing.

 

“ _You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips_.”

 

The first line came out small and tremulous, but Mike, nervous though he was, continued on, not missing the way Harvey had stiffened as he recognised the song. Mike knew in his bones he recognised the film reference too. After all, Harvey might claim ‘Mississippi Burning’ was his favourite film, but anyone who really knew him (and Mike liked to think himself one of those people) knew it was really ‘Top Gun’.

 

Louis picked up the next line, just as surely as Goose had in the bar scene in the movie when Maverick had serenaded Charlie with ‘You've Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’’. Mike went again next, before the whole bar joined in and Mike looked around in wide-eyed shock.

 

He hadn't really expected the other associates to have his back, imagining most of them were secretly rather pleased at the falling out between Harvey and his golden boy, but he should have known not to underestimate the fear Louis had instilled in them. If Louis told them to sing, then that's what they did.

 

Harvey, meanwhile, had finally turned all the way around, stony glare still in place, but Mike thought he detected a hint of embarrassment underneath it. And maybe just the trace of a smile trying to crack through. _Wishful thinking_ , the little part of him that always liked to tell him he'd never be good enough whispered in his ear.

 

But when he reached the ‘Baby, baby, I'd get down on my knees for you’ line he _knew_ he didn't imagine the flash of want in Harvey's eyes. He had it under control again in less than a second, but Mike had _seen_ it. The thrill it sent through him was like electricity in his veins. For the first time since he'd allowed Louis to talk him into this ridiculous plan he had hope it might actually work.

 

As the song ended all eyes turned to Harvey. No one said a word. Mike was sure he'd have been able to hear a pin drop if it wasn't for the roaring in his ears as his heart beat faster than it ever had before, his blood pounding through him. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand the suspense. And then, finally, Harvey rolled his eyes and jerked his head at the stool beside him, a clear invitation for Mike to sit down.

 

The crowd cheered and wolf-whistled and Mike knew he was blushing, but he didn't care. This was the first sign Harvey had given him that he might be thawing. The throng of people around them dispersed, except for a few looky-loos eager to eavesdrop on what they suspected would be a conversation they could dine out on for months around the office. Their privacy was ensured, however, by a murderous-looking Louis shooing away the last of the stragglers before making himself scarce too. Left to their own devices once again, Mike took up the seat by his Iceman’s side.

 

“Harv-”

 

“Save it, Maverick,” Harvey hissed, so low Mike had to lean over into his personal space to hear him. “I only let you sit down because we're in a roomful of people just dying to know what's going on between us and it's not in my best interests any more than yours for them to find out the truth. Better to let them think we had a stupid tiff and it's blown over now thanks to your little performance than to risk them finding out you betrayed me because Jessica held your dirty little secret over your head. Because if they find out your secret, they'll find out my part in it, and I could do without being disbarred because I hired a fraud.”

 

With that, he threw back the rest of the scotch he'd been nursing and walked out without so much as a backward glance, leaving Mike feeling physically sick and emotionally numb. He should've known this stupid idea wasn't going to work.

 

Signalling the bartender, Mike ordered himself a scotch.

 

“On second thoughts, make it a double,” he amended.

 

“Whoa, easy there, cowboy. You might want to slow down a bit,” a familiar voice said behind him, before adding, “I'll have the same. He's paying.”

 

Mike stood up, threw a couple of bills on the bar and turned to face Donna who had slipped into the seat so recently vacated by Harvey.

 

“Let me guess, you've come to rub my face in it, call me a traitor, tell me to stay the hell away from Harvey, yadda, yadda, yadda, right?”

 

“Wrong,” Donna said, taking a sip of her scotch. “Now, sit your skinny little ass back down, close your mouth and open your ears, because I'm only going to say this once, rookie.” When Mike didn't move Donna barked out the command again. “Sit!”

 

When Mike complied, albeit it rather ungraciously, Donna grinned slyly, evidently pleased with herself. _As always_ , that nasty little voice in Mike's head that sounded a whole lot like Trevor whispered again and he had the decency to feel ashamed of it, even if there was a certain amount of truth in what it said.

 

“Good puppy,” she beamed, condescendingly. Mike had to bite back the growl that threatened to bubble out of him. He wasn't in the mood for this right now, but getting mad wasn't going to help. Knowing Donna, she'd just find it amusing.

 

“Look, Mike,” she went on, her tone turning serious. “We're still not good. I'm still not happy with you for what you did. But I know why you did it, and I know that it wasn't what you wanted to happen. I know this distance between you and Harvey is making you miserable. And, if I had to guess from the way you put yourself totally out there like you did just now, I'd say if you had it to do over again you'd do things differently.”

 

Mike didn't deny it. She was right, about all of it. He knew it. She knew it. Hell, even Louis knew it. The only person who didn't seem to know it was Harvey.

 

“And I know something else too.” She paused, for dramatic effect Mike suspected, once again reminded of her roots in the theatre. He let her have her moment.

 

“I know it's making Harvey miserable too. I haven't seen him like this since his brother was sick. He misses you, Mike, but he's been hurt, and he doesn't know how to forgive you without looking weak. And if there's anything you know about Harvey it's that he hates looking weak.”

 

“I know,” Mike muttered, staring into his drink as if it contained all the secrets of the universe. “So what do I do?”

 

“You? You don't do anything. Leave it to me. I'll have a word with him.”

 

“You will??” Mike asked incredulously, swivelling round to look at her.

 

“I will,’ she nodded. “But if it works, and I'm not promising it will, you had better make it up to me with a shitload of designer accessories, and, more importantly, you had better never to do anything to hurt Harvey like that ever again. You hear me?”

 

Mike nodded fervently, hope once again creeping into his chest and curling itself around his heart. “Never, Donna. And I'll buy you a new handbag every month for the next ten years if you can get him to forgive me.”

 

“Promises, promises. Don't make them if you can't keep them, Mike. But here's one I've got for you that I definitely _will_ keep. To use a rather colourful British term I just picked up from what I suspect is Darby’s hatchetman, the somewhat charming Mr. Stephen Huntley, if you _ever_ do anything to hurt or betray Harvey again I will personally have your guts for garters and your bollocks for earrings. You know what your bollocks are, right?” She cast a meaningful glance down at his crotch and Mike wondered how it was possible to both blanch and blush at the same time.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know what they are,” he mumbled.

 

“Good. Then you'll know you definitely want to hang on to them.”

 

“Definitely,” Mike agreed.

 

“Okay, puppy, you can stop looking so pathetic now. Your Auntie Donna's on the case. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go flirt with the English guy again. He'll be devastated if I don't.” She drained her glass, threw him a wink and with that she was gone.

 

When Monday came and Mike had heard nothing from either Harvey or Donna, the hope that had been holding him together all weekend slowly withered and died. When Louis repeated his offer of taking Mike on as his associate he agreed half-heartedly.

 

It wasn't that he wasn't grateful to Louis. It was just that he had to admit, if only to himself, that wanting to be Harvey's associate wasn’t only about living his dream of being a lawyer. It was about wanting to be close to the man that had given him a shot at that dream as well. Wanting to be by his side, working together every day, _needing_ to be part of his life. Those were the thoughts running through his mind as he looked out the window of Louis’ office, his back to the door.

 

He was startled out of his reverie by that voice he had missed so much recently and was afraid he'd never hear directed at him again, except in anger and disappointment.

 

“I can't let you do this.”

 

And just like that, hope was alive again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [The scene from ‘Top Gun’ that inspired Mike](http://youtu.be/DorlqdCDTcg). Or at least I hope it is. I’ve never linked something here before. I hope you enjoyed the story. If you feel like it, come say hi, either here in the comments section, or over on tumblr where I’m also known as novemberhush. Thanks for reading. :-)


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